


Millenniums

by FuntasticFrost



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Jack Frost, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Norwegian Mythology & Folklore, Older Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Past Lives, Recovered Memories, Reincarnation, Separation Anxiety, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spirit Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7367401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuntasticFrost/pseuds/FuntasticFrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memory is a puzzle: you can't see the big picture until you've put together every individual piece. </p><p>Jack is slowly remembering his human life. One event leads to another until he starts recalling the life of someone else: someone who speaks in an alien voice yet shares his face. His mind is scrambled, and some of his memories come back distorted and doused in panic—but he tries not to worry. </p><p>Hiccup, another lonely spirit and his newfound best friend, tells him not to worry, so he tries not to think about his confusing dreams. </p><p>Jack avoids sleeping and the dark. </p><p>Everything is fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trolls

One sunny summer afternoon, Shenandoah hums a cheerful tune while Jack cradles her baby.

“Jack, let me hold him!” his little sister demands, trying to steal the infant from his lap.

He twists away, keeping Deganawidah out of her reach. “No, you’ll drop him. You gotta be careful with babies.”

“I am careful!” Flee insists. Jack raises a skeptical eyebrow, and she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. Annoyed with his unwillingness to cooperate, she turns to Shenandoah. “Can I hold your baby?”

The woman chuckles, shakes her head in refusal, and gestures for Flee to sit by her feet. Frowning, his younger sister complies, and the woman begins to twist her long, tawny hair into a braid.

Jack smirks in victory, and Flee sticks her tongue out at him. He laughs and returns his attention to the giggling baby in his arms. Deganawidah’s tiny fists close around Jack’s fingers as he tries to pull them into his mouth. Pupils shrinking in the sunlight, the infant squints up at him. Jack’s grin broadens. He blinks, seeing red behind his eyelids, and then...

Everything changes. Shenandoah, Deganawidah, and Flee vanish. The bright forest of Burgess disappears.

Jack opens his eyes, and he is no longer himself.

A crying baby rests in his arms as he sings a soothing lullaby. He paces across a nursery and looks out a massive window. Stars are swallowed in darkness as explosions rattle the universe. Screams echo in the distance.

His head turns, and his eyes land on a glowing, diamond-tipped spear propped up against a wall. He balances the infant on his armored hip and grabs the weapon. A loud thud makes him turn around, and ominous choruses of whispers grow louder as a thousand hands pound on the door. He trembles, and the baby wails.

The door is knocked down, and the darkness surges forward. An army of laughing monsters charge at him—

_“Jack!”_

He jolts awake, heart hammering. Thrashing, he loses his balance and falls, landing in a pile of leaves. Instinctively, his fingers find his staff, curling around the familiar wood—only then does he realize where he is.

Jamie is standing above him, biting back laughter. “Have a nice fall?”

Reality breaches the surface of his mind. Last night, he decided to take a nap in Jamie’s backyard while waiting for the kid to wake up. Jack groans, staring up at the branch where he dozed. He really should stop sleeping in trees. Covering his face with his arm, he grumbles, “Not funny.”

“Actually, it’s super funny!” Jamie snickers, pulling a metal gadget out of his pocket. “I gotta tell Cupcake.”

A light flashes in Jack’s face, and he flinches, recalling his dream of bright explosions, but he quickly shoves the bizarre visions into the back of his mind. He can analyze his recent remembrance later. Rubbing his eyes, he complains, “What is that?”

“I took a picture of you to show to Cupcake,” Jamie answers.

Jack furrows his eyebrows, confused. Sitting up and brushing autumn leaves off his clothes, he squints at the tiny metal rectangle in Jamie’s hand. “But you don’t have a camera.”

“My phone has a camera,” Jamie explains, and Jack jumps to his feet, skeptical.

“Phones don’t have cameras. That can’t be a phone. It doesn’t even look like one.” He isn’t incredibly up to date with the modern world, but he knows what phones and cameras look like: phones have long curly wires sticking out of them, and cameras look like accordions. Jamie isn’t going to trick him.

The younger boy holds out the piece of technology for him to examine, grinning. “Phones are cooler than they used to be.”

Disbelieving, Jack explores the device. Sure enough, the unflattering image of him sprawled on the grass is displayed on the screen, and he can’t help but snicker at the sight. Jamie was right: it is kind of funny.

“Neat,” Jack comments appreciatively, his eyes widening in curiosity. “How does it work?”

Jamie swipes at screen, and the picture changes to one of his greyhound. “It’s a touchscreen, so you just use your fingers. You can take pictures, listen to music, text, play games… tons of cool stuff.”

“It can do all that?” Jack, bewildered, swipes through Jamie’s collection of pictures. He’s aware humanity is rapidly progressing in the area of technology—he’s watched them grow for centuries with his very own eyes—but he didn’t know they were so advanced.

Jamie nods, amused. “Yeah. I can’t believe you’ve never seen an iPhone.”

Jack returns the gadget to his friend, shrugging. “I don’t need one.”

Fiddling with his backpack straps, the kid stares at him, contemplating. “Maybe you should get one.” Jack raises an eyebrow, and Jamie continues, “Y’know, so we can call each other and stuff.”

“Why would we need to do that?” Jack questions. He already spends a significant amount of time with his friend. Plus, now that September has arrived, they can see each other nearly every day.

Jamie wipes his shoes on the damp grass. “In the summer, you could call me instead of coming here. That way you won’t get too hot.”

Jack frowns, knowing which summer visit the younger boy is referring to. He knows better than to stick around Burgess when the temperature is too high, but he couldn’t stay away. He hadn’t seen his believers in over a month, and the separation was driving him mad. Worry gnawed on his insides, and he was scared they’d lose faith in him if he was absent for too long. Now, for the record, Jack didn’t actually faint. He just fell under a dizzy spell. He didn’t have a heat stroke or anything drastic, but Jamie still shouldn’t have seen him in a weak state. Jack is supposed to be strong all of the time; he isn’t allowed to stumble when children are around. He’s Jamie’s hero—a literal legendary spirit, for crying out loud—and the kid shouldn’t see him as anything less.

Swallowing down his guilt, Jack answers with a carefree tone, “I can’t buy a phone. I don’t have any money. Being a Guardian is an unpaid job, kiddo.”

“Oh.” Jamie still won’t meet his eyes. Is he disappointed because his suggestion was shot down or because Jack isn’t as great as he’s supposed to be?

Trying to erase the awkwardness from the conversation, Jack asks, “So… have you found any weird supernatural stuff lately?”

Jamie’s eyes light up with excitement. Bingo. Bringing up a nerdy topic is a surefire way to diffuse any tension with Jamie. The kid’s a huge geek who believes in every campfire story ever told.

“Yeah! There was a Sasquatch sighting in Canada, like, only a few hundred miles away!” Jamie fishes his phone out of his pocket and starts tapping at the screen. “There’s an article with a map… here! See!”

Jack peers over his friend’s shoulder and examines the picture, smiling. “Yeah, I see.”

He’s fairly certain that Bigfoot doesn’t actually exist, but he isn’t going to pop Jamie’s bubble. He doesn’t want to ruin the kid’s dreams, after all. If Jamie were to stop believing in one legend, what’s to say that Jack wouldn’t be next? The younger boy scrolls to the bottom of the page, and the title of another related story catches Jack’s eye.

“Child Eating Monster?” Frowning, he reaches over and pokes at the bold letters. After loading, another article appears on the screen. He can’t understand most of the words, but there are blurry images and faces of missing kids. “Where’s that?”

“Uh, it says Lofoten, Norway. Something about a cave monster?” Jamie squints at his phone, sporting a grim expression. A pang of guilt strikes Jack in the chest. Jamie is only eleven. He doesn’t need to be reading about missing children. Jack is about to ask his friend to return to the Sasquatch article, but then the front door slams.

“Jack!”

They both turn around as Sophie hops down the porch steps. Nearly tripping over the laces of her bedazzled sneakers, she runs across the lawn, and as soon as she reaches Jack, she hugs his legs.

“Hey, kiddo!” He beams and ruffles her unkempt mop of hair. “Are you excited for school?”

Sophie’s head bobs, enthusiastic. He’s about to pick her up, but then the yellow school bus screeches to a stop in front of them. The little girl waves goodbye before skipping away, but Jamie hesitates.

“Are you going to Norway?” he asks, brown eyes wide and concerned.

“Don’t worry about me,” Jack chuckles, patting the kid on the back and pushing him toward the bus. “Go use that big brain of yours!”

Reluctant, Jamie steps onto the bus, and the glass doors seal shut behind him. Jack watches as they speed away, assuring himself that he’ll see the Bennett children tomorrow. They won’t stop believing in him overnight.

Calling on the wind, Jack takes to the air.

 

* * *

 

The flight from Pennsylvania to Norway isn’t a short one, so Jack takes the time to analyze the memories he regained last night.

Over a year ago, he opened his tooth box and relived his final moments as a human. He’s been remembering pieces of his past life ever since. His recollections typically occur when he’s sleeping, so Jack’s been dozing off more and more often. As a winter spirit, he usually only requires sleep every month or so, but now he nods off at least once a week. He doesn’t really mind—even though finding a safe place to rest is a challenge—because he likes learning about his family and who he used to be. His favorite memories are the ones of his sister. She was so full of happiness and joy—she was the light of his life. He’s always excited to learn more about her. He feels as if he doesn't know enough—he doesn't even remember her birth name yet. Jack is fairly sure that “Flee” was just a nickname, but he hasn’t called her anything else in his memories. Her real name was probably faith based since colonial Burgess was ardently Christian. Maybe it was Mary? Rachel? Abigail? He isn’t sure, but he hopes to eventually find out.

He _does_ know the name of their babysitter, though. Shenandoah, a Native American woman from a tribe near their community, watched over them many times throughout their childhood. The memory of being supervised by her isn’t an unfamiliar one. Jack is confused, however, by the dream that came after. The nonsensical visions of explosions and monsters made no sense. He wasn’t even himself in the dream, unlike in his memories. He was an imaginary character who spoke an indecipherable language. He doesn’t understand how or why his head came up with such random visions, but he decides not to think about it too hard. The dream was just a fluke. Next time, he’ll regain his memories normally.

The wind whistles in his ear, and Jack blinks, realizing that he’s stopped, hovering thousands of feet above the ocean. He shakes his head, and then he races the breeze across the sea.

 

* * *

 

“How many caves are on one island?” Jack complains, tapping a tree trunk with the crook of his staff. Frost spreads across the bark, marking the area as one he’s already checked. He’s spent the entirety of the afternoon searching the mountainous islands of Lofoten, all of which are riddled with numerous caverns. So far, he hasn’t found a trace of the missing children. He needs a better plan other than investigating until he locates the kids, but… what else is he supposed he do? Jack sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair. He isn’t going to stop looking—not until he’s explored every inch of the archipelago.

He’s glancing at the overcast sky, trying to gauge how long he has until sunset, when something colorful catches his eye. A splash of red against brown and gray demands his attention, and Jack flits through the forest, coming to a halt when he sees the shoe. The small boot is child sized, and he can tell the article of clothing hasn’t been exposed to the elements for long. He stares, horrified, at the bloody ankle still tucked inside. The flesh is fresh, lacking rot, yet already pale and green. He can easily imagine the fate of the kid who must've owned the shoe, and the ground freezes to solid ice beneath him. A strong, angry gust of wind makes the trees groan, and he knows exactly what he’s going to do to the monster when he finds it.

He takes off, speeding through the forest and the nearest cave opening. The blow glow of his staff lights up the darkness, and the sound of an underground waterfall rebounds off the moist cavern walls. The place appears uninhabited, but Jack is going to check every nook and cranny, innocuous appearance be damned. He just found a chewed limb outside: he’s certain he’ll find something in here.

He tenses when he hears footsteps and… sniffling. Following the sound, he sprints down the shadowy passageway. The noise grows louder as he approaches, clarifying into a quiet, accented voice. _“Alt kommer til å gå bra.”_

Jack skids to a halt, digging his heels into the rock. Illuminated by the pulsing blue light of his staff is a tall figure. He holds a trembling little girl in his arms. She appears to be of kindergarten age, and she’s covered in filth. Her stained dress is torn, and there are twigs in her ratted, platinum blonde hair. As poor of a state the child is in, Jack feels relieved to have found a living one. His relief is short lived, however, because he’s overwhelmed by the scent of decay when he breathes through his nose. He glances behind the spirit’s enormous pair of black wings only to find scattered remains of human bodies.

Spurred into action, Jack aims his staff at the assumed monster’s head. “Let her go!”

Green eyes widen in alarm, and the spirit holds up one hand in surrender. “Wait, this isn’t what it looks like!”

“I said, _let her go!”_ Jack orders. The stale air crackles with cold as he prepares to attack.

“I swear, I didn’t! I would never—!”

Jack isn’t in a listening mood. Ice crawls up the spirit’s legs, freezing him into place. Voice low, Jack commands, “Let her go before I freeze the rest of you!”

The spirit gasps in surprise, gaping at his immobilized lower half. He stares at Jack, and the winter spirit glares in return.

“Alright,” he agrees and then slowly whispers to the girl, _“Jeg kommer til å sette deg ned nå. Ikke vær redd.”_ Jack doesn’t understand a single word, but he guesses the language is Norwegian because the child seems to understand. The spirit maintains eye contact with Jack as he slowly places the girl on her own two feet. Her blue eyes widen when she sees the ice encasing his legs, but she doesn’t speak.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” the spirit promises.

“Bullshit,” Jack scoffs. The corpses are all the evidence he needs. The only reason Jack hasn’t completely frozen him is because he doesn’t want to scare the kid. He can tell she’s already been frightened enough for a lifetime.

“I didn’t eat anyone!” the spirit insists.

“Yeah? Then who did?” Jack asks, unconvinced.

“The trolls!”

“Trolls?” He raises an eyebrow, extremely skeptical.

“They’re usually pretty harmless. Normally, they just stay in their caves, but for some reason they’ve started to go after…” The spirit trails off, realizing that he isn’t being taken seriously. He glares at Jack when he snorts in disbelief. “I’m telling the truth!”

Jack rolls his eyes, preparing to finish the argument by transforming the spirit into an ice sculpture, but a loud roar echoes throughout the cavern, stopping him short. Jack spins around, catching a glimpse of a bulky, towering beast before a huge fist collides with his face. Knocked off his feet, his head bashes against the jagged surface of the cave floor, and his staff slips from his fingers. Bright flames light up the cave, and he can faintly hear the spirit shout something over the ringing in his ears. A grubby hand grabs Jack by the ankle, dangling him upside down. The foul creature growls and sniffs him. His shirt has fallen down, and the troll—an actual _troll_ —licks a long stripe down his stomach, coating his skin in slime. Jack grimaces and starts squirming, stretching to reach his staff, just inches away from his fingertips. With a grunt of effort, he manages to wrap his fingers around his staff, getting a firm grip on his weapon. He slams the wood into the troll’s abdomen, and the beast shrieks in pain, releasing his leg. Jack flops onto the ground with a groan. He quickly flips himself over and leaps to his feet. One of the trolls charges him, and he blasts the creature with shards of ice. He hears a shrill scream, and his head swivels in the direction of the little girl. One of the trolls is rushing toward her. Jack moves instantly, but he isn’t fast enough. The winged spirit beats him to the punch, slashing at the monster’s chest with flaming hands. Blood gushes from the gashes, splattering his face with crimson. The troll doesn’t move.

Jack scans the cave, and confirms that the rest of the monsters won’t be moving again anytime soon.  

The child begins to sob, and the green-eyed spirit climbs off the limp troll, dousing his flaming hands. He turns to the girl and crouches before her, whispering soft words. She shrieks, cowering away from him.

“You’re scaring her,” Jack accuses, stepping closer to the two of them.

“I’m not trying to!” he snaps back, frustrated. He runs a bloody hand through his auburn hair, sighing. Jack stares at him, really looking at him for the first time. His broad wingspan gives off impression that he’s bigger than he really is. Actually, the longer Jack studies him, the more he realizes that he doesn’t look very threatening at all. He’s wearing skinny jeans and a prosthetic foot, and he has braids in his hair. Jack’s face flushes in embarrassment. He’s such a dumbass. He shouldn’t have made assumptions and attacked the guy.

Deciding to be helpful, he approaches the pair and tilts his head to the side, contemplative. “She just watched you attack that thing. She isn’t going to trust you again easily.”

The spirit turns around and gives him a hopeless look. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell her that I’m here. I’m not covered in blood. I don’t look threatening.” Jack, as a Guardian, automatically draws children to him. If he can get the girl to see him, he’ll be able to calm her down. The spirit’s gaze hardens, and Jack can tell he’s wondering if he’s just another self-centered jerk trying to gain another believer. Believers are everything to immortals, but Jack isn’t like most spirits. He cares more about helping kids. He didn't have any believers for hundreds of years, so he knows how to live without.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” Jack promises.

The spirits sighs, “What’s your name?”

“Jack Frost,” he answers, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I’m a winter spirit, by the way.”

“Yeah, I garnered that from the whole ice thing,” the spirit replies. Jack notices the frost covering the guy’s peg leg, and the tips of his ears burn. The spirit returns his attention to the girl, whispering in Norwegian and pointing to where Jack is standing. She doesn’t seem to be listening, but eventually she peeks through her palms and glances in his direction. Jack steps in front of the girl, forming a snowflake and blowing it into her face. She blinks, and recognition shimmers in her pale irises.

“Hi,” he greets, friendly. Her eyes widen upon seeing him, but she doesn’t back away.

 _“Hei,”_ she replies, uncertain.

He grins and asks in his sweetest voice, “What’s your name?”

The spirit translates his question, _“Hva heter du?”_

She just stares at him for several minutes. Eventually, she whispers, quiet, lips barely moving, “Kari.”

Jack gives her his best smile. “That’s a pretty name. My name’s Jack. Can you tell us where you live so we can take you home to your family?”

The spirit repeats Jack’s words in Norwegian, tone equally as soft.

“Svolvær,” Kari answers.

The spirit nods. “That’s a few islands over, on Austvågøya.” Kari latches onto him, once again trusting, and wraps her arms around his neck. He holds her and rises to his feet. “I’ll take her home.”

Jack jumps up. “I’m coming with you.”

“I can fly. I’ll be faster,” the spirit reasons.

“I can fly too,” Jack retorts.

The spirit arches an eyebrow, looking him over. “You… don’t have any wings…?” His confused expression softens his face, and Jack feels like a fool for ever thinking this guy could eat a child.

Jack shakes his head, unwilling to explain his ability to ride the wind. Now isn’t the time to dive into the details of his flight capabilities. Kari is shivering, and she looks nervous now that they aren’t comforting her. They need to get her home as soon as possible. She might require medical attention, and her family must be worried sick. Jack begins marching toward the cave entrance. “Let’s just go.”

The spirit follows him, clearly skeptical. They hurry through the caverns until they reach the outside world. Jack summons the wind, and a gust of air lifts him a few feet off the ground. He spins around, glancing at the spirit. “Which way to Austvågøya?”

“How are you doing that?” His eyes are wide and sparkling with curiosity, and Kari is gaping at him.

“Which way?” Jack repeats. They don’t have time for this. The spirit shakes his head, and his wings unfold. He points to the east, and they take off.

The entire flight is silent except for the howling of the wind.

 

* * *

 

Jack lingers on the sidewalk outside Kari’s house, allowing the drenching rain to freeze and stick to his body. He gazes through the window, watching as the girl is embraced by numerous relatives and examined by medical professionals. She doesn’t stop crying, but her parents manage to keep her from completely losing it.

The rain suddenly stops pelting him, and Jack looks up. One of the spirit’s wings now acts as an umbrella, shielding him from the downpour. Emerald eyes blink at him, waiting, but Jack doesn’t thank him. Torn between flying away and staying to watch over Kari, Jack shifts uncomfortably.

“Thanks for freezing my feet, by the way.” The spirit awkwardly nudges his shoulder, and Jack flinches.

“I thought you were gonna eat her!” Jack defends. He feels sort of guilty for attacking the guy now that he knows he’s innocent, but he was only trying to protect Kari.

The spirit stills, and Jack instantly feels bad for yelling. Maybe he sounded a little _too_ defensive.

“That’s understandable.” He flashes a crooked smile, revealing his pearly and pointed teeth. “Especially since I have these.”

“What are you, a shark?” Jack asks, and he knows he said the right thing because the corners of the spirit’s eyes crinkle in amusement.

“The Spirit of Dragons, actually,” he answers, and Jack furrows his eyebrows.

“Dragons?”

“Yeah.”

Jack stares at him for a few moments, waiting for a sign that the guy is trying to mess with him. Dragons don’t exist just like Big Foot doesn’t exist. Not every fairytale is real. When Jack realizes the spirit isn’t joking, he clamps his mouth shut and averts his eyes. He isn’t going to voice his doubts aloud—he’d just end up offending the guy.

A few minutes of silence pass, and Jack rubs his thumb against his staff, eyeing the frost forming at his feet. Why does he have to be so awkward?

“You’re exceptionally good with kids. I’ve never met a winter spirit like you,” he points out, and Jack lifts his head. The spirit’s gaze roams over Jack, intrigued, and he isn’t sure whether to bask in the odd compliment or shy away from the attention.

“Well, I’ve never met a dragon spirit before,” Jack replies in a playful tone. Immediately after speaking, he inwardly cringes and scolds himself, waiting for the conversation to turn ugly like it always does.

“I’m the only one, so, yeah, I would think so.” The spirit smiles, and Jack releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. If he was talking to anyone else—Bunny, for example—that comment would’ve resulted in a fight.

“Didn’t you say your name was Jack?” The spirit’s voice is sort of nasally and accented, Jack notices, but he doesn’t mind.

Jack nods. “Frost.”

“Hiccup.”

Jack arches an eyebrow at the odd name. Hiccup chuckles.

“I know. Back in my day, ugly names were supposed to scare away trolls. Obviously, it doesn’t work too well.”

Jack laughs, but his eyes are drawn to the townhouse window. Kari’s face is haunted, and her knee bounces.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Jack asks. She’s lucky to even be alive, but that doesn’t mean she'll be alright. She still has a long journey ahead of her.

Hiccup’s jovial tone turns serious. “The trolls won’t come back, and she has her family to help her. She’ll get better.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Jack nods.

The rain continues for hours into the night, and Kari eventually goes to sleep, embraced by her parents. Afterward, Jack flies off without a farewell.

 

* * *

 

Every day for the next week, Jack checks on Kari. He doesn't understand a word that comes out of her mouth, but her parents hold their conversations with shrinks in English so she won’t hear. They discuss the likelihood of her developing PTSD and explain how her stories of “magical boys” might be an indicator of such. Jack knows her therapists will quickly talk Kari out of believing in him, and the last thing he wants to do is remind her of the things she survived, so he keeps his distance.

The police show up on Thursday to tell Kari’s parents of the cave they discovered. They describe a cavern littered with the mangled corpses of lost hikers, and both adults burst into tears.

During Jack’s last routine visit, he swears someone is watching him, but even after searching the area, he finds no one.

Jack doesn't return to Norway for several weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this fic takes place in September, 2013. 
> 
> I learned in AP U.S. History that the Quakers often employed Native Americans as babysitters, so, of course, I immediately thought of Human!Jack.
> 
> Deganawidah means "two rivers running" in Oneida.
> 
> Shenandoah means “deer” in Oneida.


	2. Fire Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you okay, sweetie?”
> 
> Jack turns in the direction of the voice, and his smile fades. A middle-aged woman lingers on the edge of the green, eyeing Jamie with concern. The kid sits up, still struggling to catch his breath, and nods.
> 
> “What are you doing?” she inquires, and Jack frowns, wanting her to hurry up and go away. She should just mind her own business.
> 
> Jamie’s eyes flicker in his direction, wary. “Playing.”
> 
> “But where are your friends, dear?”

Crouching on the window seat, Jack presses his nose against the glass and gazes outside. Autumn has arrived, meaning most of the leaves have fallen from the trees, and the sky is gray, indicating oncoming rain. He briefly considers turning the tide of the weather, but he shoots down the idea, knowing he should wait until November to bring snow to Burgess. He doesn’t want to spoil the fun of Halloween, after all.

“What’s your costume gonna be this year, Jamie?” Jack asks, spinning around to face his friend. The younger boy looks up from his notebook, eyes brightening.

“Zindagi!” Jamie exclaims, pointing to his _Rainbow Quest IX_ poster. Jack glances at the picture of superhero characters and scratches his head.

“Which one is that again?” He can never remember, no matter how many times the kid tells him. Jack just doesn’t understand the whole video game thing.

“He’s the main character, Jack!” Jamie huffs, clearly irritated about having to repeat himself.

“Right. I knew that,” Jack replies, but his friend doesn’t look convinced. Jamie shakes his head, and all traces of annoyance disappear from his face.

“I’ve already started on my costume! I got my cape, but I still have to make my helmet.” Jamie’s enthusiasm permeates the air, and Jack can’t help but grin. He loves spending time with the younger boy. His excitement is contagious, and his readiness for adventure makes him fun to be around.

“Do you wanna go do something fun?” Jack suggests out of the blue, overcome with the desire to bring a smile to his friend’s face. Jamie’s shoulders slump.

“I don’t know… I have to finish my homework first,” he answers, sounding defeated.

Jack’s eyebrows furrow. “I thought only older kids had homework.”

Jamie shakes his head. “I’m in middle school now, so I have to do math _every day.”_ He sighs dramatically, glaring at his notebook and calculator.

“Sounds boring.” Jack wrinkles his nose in disapproval. School takes too much fun away from children, in his opinion. “Are you sure you _have_ to do it?”

The younger boy nods, somber, and Jack pouts. Jamie’s childhood isn’t going to last forever, and the kid shouldn’t waste his time on something as useless as schoolwork.

“We can play when I’m finished,” his friend promises, and Jack perks up. He likes the sound of that plan. He nods eagerly, and Jamie returns to his task.

Jack rises from his squat and plops down on the bed, lying on his stomach. Resting his head in his palms, he watches the younger boy gnaw on a pencil. Jamie is such a smart kid—and a good one, too. He keeps his room tidy so his hardworking mother doesn’t have to clean for him, he looks after his little sister, and he treats everyone with kindness. Even before Jamie believed in him, Jack was fond of him. He would often instigate snowball fights with the younger boy, and he always had tons of fun even though he was invisible. He felt affection toward the Bennett children even then, and he’s eternally grateful that they can see him now.

Minutes pass, and Jack begins to grow impatient. He stretches out on the quilt, counting the glow star stickers on the ceiling. His eyes dart around the room, observing every change since his last visit. Another drawing of himself has been added to the corkboard, the stack of library books has grown taller, and the cardboard castle has finished being painted. Soon enough, Jack runs out of things to distract himself with. He huffs and glances at Jamie again, only to find the younger boy counting his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Jack asks, shifting and accidentally knocking a few stuffed animals off the bed.

“Multiplication,” Jamie answers, not looking up. “Do you know what twelve times four is?”

“Uh… I have no idea what that means,” Jack replies. What do twelve and four have to do with time? What are they teaching kids these days? “Are you almost finished?”

“Almost.” Jamie scratches a number onto his paper and then presses buttons on his calculator. Jack frowns, fidgeting. He can only sit still for so long.

“How ’bout now?”

“Not yet.”

Jack groans loudly, rolling over on the mattress and throwing his hands in the air. “This is so boring!”

“Jack?”

“What?” he whines, exasperated. He doesn’t think he can wait another second before exploding.

“I’m done,” Jamie giggles, and Jack immediately jumps off the bed.

“Finally!” he exclaims, grabbing his staff and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Let’s go! I know it’s sort of early for snow, but maybe I could still freeze the park…” He ponders the idea, looking to his friend for advice. “Do you think anyone would mind?”

“I think they might,” Jamie chuckles, shaking his head as if the plan is ridiculous. “We can do fun things that _don’t_ involve snow.”

Jack’s interest is piqued by the suggestion. “Like what?”

Jamie shrugs. “Well, we could make a leaf pile or play tag or something.”

Jack beams. He likes tag. “We can do both!” he decides, and a gust of air throws the window open. Jamie tugs on his jacket, gloves, and cap before hopping onto his back and wrapping his arms around his neck. Hooking his elbows under the younger boy’s knees, Jack looks to him for confirmation. “Ready?”

“Onward!” Jamie hollers, pointing to the sky. Jack laughs, leaping out the window. The wind catches them and carries them down the street. The flight to the park is brief, lasting about only five minutes, but Jamie cheers the entire time.

As soon as Jack’s toes brush the grass, Jamie jumps off his back and starts sprinting down the hill. “You’re it!”

A mischievous smirk curls his lips, and Jack shakes his head, racing after his friend. He doesn’t cheat—for once—and runs instead of flying; nonetheless, he catches up to Jamie in seconds. He yanks on the collar of the kid’s jacket, yelling in triumph, “Got’cha!”

Before Jamie can tag him back, Jack takes off through the park. He leaps over a bench and weaves through dog-walking pedestrians, all the while managing not to pass through anyone. He keeps his pace reasonable, though, so the game is fair for his friend. After a quick glance over his shoulder, he sees that Jamie has no problem keeping up. Before the younger boy can exhaust himself, Jack slows down just enough for the kid to reach him. Jamie takes advantage of the opportunity and lunges for his legs; Jack trips and falls flat on his face, eating a mouthful of dry grass.

“You're it!” Jamie giggles and crawls over him, but Jack won't let him get away. He snatches his friend’s ankle and returns the favor, smirking when Jamie lands with a thud. The younger boy rolls over, groaning.

“You okay, kiddo?” Jack chuckles, and his friend’s whines grow louder. “You giving up already?”

“Never!” Jamie declares, raising a limp fist in the air.

“Oh really?” Jack grins devilishly as an idea pops into his brain. “You sure about that?”

Before Jamie has a chance to respond, Jack pounces on him. He assaults his sides with feather light touches, and Jamie giggles. Squirming, he tries to ward off the tickle attack, but Jack shows no mercy.

“I surrender! I surrender! You win!” Jamie squeals, and Jack finally releases him. He sits up, a bright smile on his face. Elation flows through his veins. His lives for moments like these.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

Jack turns in the direction of the voice, and his smile fades. A middle-aged woman lingers on the edge of the green, eyeing Jamie with concern. The kid sits up, still struggling to catch his breath, and nods.

“What are you doing?” she inquires, and Jack frowns, wanting her to hurry up and go away. She should just mind her own business.

Jamie’s eyes flicker in his direction, wary. “Playing.”

“But where are your friends, dear?”

Jack grabs his staff and rises to his feet. He isn’t willing to put up with this nosy woman any longer. He glances down at his friend, forcing a smile. “Hey, Jamie, you said you wanted to make a leaf pile, right?”

The younger boy blinks at him. The fact that he can’t respond when adults are around makes Jack’s heart ache.

“I don't think we should leave your friends out of the fun. Let's head back to your house and play there, okay?” Jack’s grin grows more convincing the longer he speaks, and, thankfully, the kid doesn’t seem to realize his change in mood.

“My friends went that way,” Jamie answers the stranger, pointing toward the woods and standing up. “I'm gonna go catch up to them. Nice meeting you!”

Jamie spins around, and they start toward the trees. Once they're out of earshot, Jamie starts explaining his plan for the awesome leaf pile they're going to make. Jack does an excellent job of sounding as chipper as ever, but the skip in his step is gone. He hates being reminded of how Jamie is one of the only people who can see him. When they’re alone together, he can forget about his invisibility, but when other people inevitably show up and spoil the fun, he has to face the fact that Jamie is all he has.

Soon they reach the edge of the forest, and Jack snaps out of his melancholy thoughts. Jamie climbs onto his back, and they fly home.

 

* * *

 

After spending the remainder of the afternoon with his believers, Jack leaves to spread snow to the cold places of the world. Even though autumn is still in full swing, certain parts of the Northern Hemisphere already demand winter. He brings heavy clouds with him as he flies over Northern Canada, Alaska, Russia, and Scandinavia, covering the land with white.

Jack finishes his work in a certain archipelago in Northern Norway and makes time to decorate a special little girl’s window with beautiful frost patterns. He doesn't attempt to reach out to Kari—seeing her sleeping soundly in her bed is enough to give him peace of mind. Even though she's going to stop believing in him soon, she's still one of the only children who’ve ever been able to see him. He wants to make sure she's doing okay.

Afterward, Jack considers flying all the way back to Burgess, but he can't stop yawning. He hasn't slept in almost two weeks, and after spreading snowfall and cheer, he's spent. Jack wanders through the small cluster of islands, searching for a somewhat safe, secluded place to nap. He votes against dozing off on the wilderness—there could be more dangerous things than trolls prowling those woods—so he sticks close to the small towns populating the archipelago.

Jack wanders into a primary school playground and gives up. His eyelids are starting to droop, and he can't hold off sleep much longer. He crawls inside of a plastic tube slide, pulls his hoodie over his eyes, and cradles his staff to his chest, thinking of Jamie. His first believer is in middle school now. He's growing up, and he's gotten past the age where playing with imaginary friends is considered normal. Jack doesn’t want people to make fun of Jamie or call him crazy because of his belief. Maybe he _should_ keep his distance like the Guardians suggested. Jack squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't like thinking those thoughts, but they rear their heads every once in a while. He sighs, shifting until he feels more comfortable, and nods off.

 

* * *

 

“Can you read this?” Samuel asks, pointing to the bolded block of text. Jack squints and leans forward so he can see better.

He reads slowly with long pauses, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not…” Jack’s eyebrows furrow, and his lips move experimentally as he tries to figure out how to say a word he’s only ever heard in church.

“Perish,” Samuel provides, and Jack nods.

“Perish but have…” Jack huffs, frustrated with himself. He should know this one.

“Eternal life.” Samuel is calm and unhurried. He never grows impatient with Jack, somehow—a gift that makes him the most qualified tutor in the village.

“Eternal life!” Jack finishes triumphantly, beaming at his friend. Samuel offers a small smile in return.

“You’re getting better.”

“I know,” Jack smirks, reclining against the side of the schoolhouse. “Soon enough I’ll be a master of this reading thing.” He snakes a hand behind Samuel’s shoulder and tugs on his black ribbon, undoing his bow. Long red hair curtains around his freckled cheeks, and a disapproving expression clouds his face. “I’ll be so smart, I won’t even have to go to school!”

Samuel arches an eyebrow and flips through their learner, searching for another passage. “I doubt that. You still have to go to school no matter how well you can read.”

Jack frowns. “That’s not fair.”

He only pays attention to Samuel when they study during recess because he wants to hurry up and finish his education. He hates school. There’s no place on Earth more boring than their classroom and no woman alive more dull than their teacher, Miss Whitney. She’s very pretty, but her monotonous voice, coupled with her banal personality, results in some insufferable teaching. Samuel always chastises Jack whenever he complains about her, but, really, how could anyone blame him when she makes school so unbearable?

“Life isn’t fair,” Samuel states, and Jack glares at him. He opens his mouth to dish out a witty comeback, but loud wailing fills the air and makes him pause.

“Who do you think…?” Samuel wonders aloud, but Jack is already on his feet. He runs around the corner of the building, and his gaze lands on his crying little sister: she’s sitting on the patch of dirt the kids use for hopscotch, clutching her knee. Jack rushes toward her, and the girls standing in his way move aside.

“What’s wrong, Flee?” Jack asks, crouching down beside her. She sniffles and looks up at him with teary eyes.

“They pushed me.”

“We did not!” one girl defends. Jack shoots her a threatening glare, and she promptly shuts her mouth. Returning his attention to his sister, he pries her hand away from her kneecap. The skin is scraped up, but she isn’t seriously injured.

“It’s not too bad.” Jack kisses the scratches, and she smiles faintly. “Let’s go wash this, okay?”

She nods, wiping her nose with her sleeve, and takes his hand. He helps her up and leads her to the well, ignoring the little girls whispering viciously behind their backs. They walk behind the schoolhouse, and Jack fills up a bucket of cold water, cupping his hands and pouring some onto her knee.

“That’s better,” he soothes, and she smiles at him.

“Thanks, Jack.”

The satisfaction of successfully alleviating his sister’s pain swells within him. He always tries his best to be a good big brother, and moments like these make him feel as if he’s doing an alright job.

“Anything for you.”

 

* * *

 

“There he is!”

Jack stirs at the angry shout, blinking slowly and rubbing his heavy eyelids. Before he has time to fully wake up, someone yanks on his ankle, dragging him out of the slide with one harsh tug. Jack plops onto the ground, landing on his back, and he quickly props himself up on his elbows, squinting against the daylight. A shape steps forward, blocking out the rising sun, and his eyes adjust until he can make out a trio of livid summer spirits looming above him.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

Jack tightens his grip on his staff and glares at the spirits. He doesn’t recognize them, but he has clearly pissed them off somehow. He doesn’t have a clue as to why: he hasn’t pulled any attention-seeking stunts in a few months.

“What?” Jack snaps, and the one standing in the center—the one who’s been doing all the talking—bristles.

“You made it snow, didn’t you?” he accuses, jabbing a finger in his face. Jack’s eyes narrow.

“Yeah, so what?” He doesn’t get what their problem is. It's not like he created a blizzard in the tropics.

“It’s _October!”_ Outrage is evident in his booming voice. “You shouldn’t be here!”

Jack raises his eyebrows. “We’re above the _Arctic Circle._ It’s cold here almost all year round.” Snow in autumn isn’t anything out of the ordinary, so these guys have no valid reason to hunt him down and chase him off. “If anyone has a right to be here, it’s me.”

The spirit looks personally offended, and he glowers at Jack, stalking forward.

“You mouthy little shit,” he growls, grabbing the front of his hoodie. Alarmed, Jack whacks him over the head with his staff, and the spirit drops him. He scrambles to his feet, blasting the other two with a wave of ice before they can pounce. The wind scoops him up, but he doesn’t make it very far before a ball of fire whizzes just above his head. Jack yelps as the flame singes his hair, and he ducks in order to avoid being scorched. One of the spirits seizes his ankle and slams him down into the slush. A boot stomps on his wrist, crunching his hand until his fingers uncurl and release his staff. One of the spirits pulls him up by his hood, and he meets the fuming gaze of their bellwether before a fist collides with his face. His head snaps back, and stars dance before his eyes.

“You’re not coming back here, got it? No one wants you around—you or your godawful season.” He draws his arm back, preparing for another hit, but Jack catches his fist. Ice crackles as it spreads across his knuckles, and he howls in pain.

“Whoa,” Jack murmurs, eyes widening. He didn’t know he could do that. Granted, no one has ever punched him in the face before. Before he can snap out of his surprised stupor, the other two spirits wrench his arms behind his back, restraining him.

“Reykr, you okay?” one of them asks, and the spirit hisses in pain, clutching his frosted hand.

“What the fuck does it look like, Bruni?!” he bellows. He lifts his head, steam practically blowing from his ears, and shoots daggers at Jack.

“You’re gonna pay for that!” Amber eyes blazing, he grabs Jack by the collar of his hoodie with his stiff, blackened hand, yanking him out of the others’ hold. The rising temperature of Reykr’s skin blisters Jack’s fingers as he claws at his wrists, struggling to break free.

“Wait!” he protests, but Reykr strikes him with his uninjured fist. He keeps on hitting him, and he doesn’t stop. Jack raises his arms to shield himself, but Reykr swats them away. He grimaces upon hearing a sickening crack, and blood spurts from his nose. His eyes seal shut, pained cries escaping his lips, and his legs give out. His head starts throbbing, and Reykr’s stream of curses grows fainter as pain pushes to the forefront of his consciousness.

“Reykr!” a voice hollers, “Leave him alone!”

The onslaught pauses, and Jack cracks open his swollen eyes. His head lolls to the side, and his gaze lands on the newcomer: a blurry figure with black wings.

“How ‘bout you mind your own business, Haddock?” Reykr snaps, panting heavily.

“He's had enough. I'm sure you’ve gotten your point across. Just let him go.” Jack’s eyebrows furrow in concentration as he tries to identify the speaker. He recognizes the voice, but his hazy mind can’t supply a name.

“No! Look at what the little shit did to my hand!” Reykr shakes him, and his aching head rattles on his shoulders.

“You probably deserved it,” the winged arrival counters, and realization dawns on Jack. It's the dragon boy, Hiccup.

“What did you just say to me?!” Reykr growls, tightening his grip on Jack’s hoodie. Jack’s temple throbs in time with his heartbeat, and pain distorts his features. Hiccup meets his gaze, worry softening his glare for a brief moment before his eyes harden and focus on the summer spirits.

“If you don't leave right this second, I will go straight to Eldar,” Hiccup threatens.

One of the other spirits—Bruni—snorts. “You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not,” Hiccup warns. “Can’t have you guys beating up innocent winter spirits, can we? Especially in late autumn, of all things.”

“He ain't innocent!” Reykr shouts.

“You’re twice his size, and—” Hiccup counts the spirits who are now gaping at him. “Three against one? Doesn't seem very fair to me. I'm sure Eldar will come to the same conclusion.”

“You wouldn't dare.” Reykr’s voice quivers.

“Pretty sure I would.”

Reykr drops Jack, and he collapses in a heap. Wood chips dig into his cheek, but he doesn’t move.

“Fuck you, Haddock,” Reykr spits, and then he storms off with his entourage in tow. Jack watches through fluttering eyelashes as they stomp away, sighing in relief when they disappear into the forest. He takes a deep breath and presses his palms against the ground, pushing himself up.

A hand rests on his shoulder, and he flinches. “Don’t touch me.”

“Let me help you,” Hiccup offers. Jack shrugs him off.

“Go away!” he snaps, rising to his feet. “I don’t need help.”

His wobbling legs give out before he can fully stand, but Hiccup catches him before he can fall. “Whoa there. C’mon, sit down for a second, buddy.”

Grumbling incoherent protests, he allows Hiccup to guide him down into a sitting position, and he wipes blood from his chin, sniffling. Hiccup rests his hand on the back of his neck, tilting his head forward. Guiding his fingers to his nose, he instructs, “Pinch here. It’ll stop the bleeding.”

Jack actually listens for once—he blames his uncharacteristic compliance on his dazed state—and his nose stops dripping after a few minutes. He lifts his head and searches the playground for his staff.

“Where’s my—?”

“Here, I got it,” Hiccup interjects, pressing the familiar wood into his hand. Jack rips his shepherd’s crook out of the spirit’s loose grip, clutching his weapon to his chest.

Hiccup averts his eyes, embarrassed, and runs a hand through his hair, mumbling, “Sorry, I just thought I’d go ahead and get it for you since you’re a little punch drunk right now.”

“I’m fine.” Jack notices how his words are slurring together, and he makes a face. Okay, so maybe he isn’t in _perfect_ condition. Hiccup chuckles, an awkward smile gracing his lips. Jack narrows his eyes, unamused, and the spirit’s laughter trails off. Hiccup shifts from crouching to sitting in the slush, smearing his green cargo pants with mud, and scoots closer, eyes narrowed as he examines him.

“You’ve got a black eye, and your nose is crooked.” Hiccup pokes the violet bruise, and Jack yelps in pain. “Definitely broken.”

“Don’t touch it!” Jack hisses, swatting his hand away. Hiccup frowns.

“I'm gonna have to set it so it doesn't heal wrong,” he concludes, reaching for his face.

“What?” Jack’s eyes widen in alarm, and he shrinks away from the touch. Hiccup pauses, the pads of his fingers ghosting against his cheeks.

“Trust me,” he reassures gently, but Jack is still tense. “I scared them off, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he concedes, unsure. Hiccup smiles softly.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” he guarantees, and when he moves to align his hands, Jack doesn’t stop him. Calloused skin molds around the curves of his nose, and Jack barely has enough time to get a grip on Hiccup’s forearms before he sets the broken bone. It’s only takes a second, but it hurts. Jack gasps, digging his fingernails into the spirit’s sleeves as he squeezes tightly.

“You okay?” Hiccup asks, and Jack nods wordlessly. “The kids will be outside for recess soon. We should move.”

Jack frowns. He doesn’t want to be walked through; he doesn’t think he can handle any more pain. He releases the spirit’s arms, collecting his staff and gritting his teeth as he tries to climb to his feet. Hiccup doesn’t give him the chance to stand on his own and helps him up before he can object. His arms encircle Jack’s waist, steadying him as the world spins. His ears are ringing, and he’s never felt this dizzy—or this shitty—in his entire life.

“Jack?” Hiccup asks, and when he doesn’t respond, he repeats his name in a worried tone. Jack leans against him for support, vision blackening around the edges. He just needs a minute for the dizziness to fade. Yeah, just a minute.

Jack’s eyes close, and he slips into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

Falling to his knees, he glares back at a face full of hatred. Pain throbs through his entire being, and his light flickers.

Despite the screaming and the menacing sword, the children standing behind him don’t cower. He isn’t afraid, and his lack of fear strengthens them.

His eyes harden as the the tip of the spear pointed in his face drips midnight onto his nose. Refusing to shrink away, he opens his mouth and uses his voice for the first time since before he fell, yelling, “We fear you none!”

As soon as he speaks, pure rage twists the face of his enemy. He’s never seen such intense loathing contort someone’s features in such a way. He still isn’t scared, though. He refuses to feel even a shred of terror.

He lunges at his adversary, and his own spear is thrown back at him. The blow comes, and his world explodes in a blinding white flash.

 

* * *

 

Jack jerks awake, gasping, and his eyes dart around in panic. He doesn’t recognize his surroundings: jagged cave walls bathed in soft firelight, a plethora of painting canvases, and handcrafted wooden furniture. His head is resting on a fluffy pillow, and a thick quilt is draped across his body. His fingers tighten around his staff, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Are you feeling any better?”

Startled, Jack sits up. Hiccup is sitting on a stool, gazing at him with concern. Jack blinks, remembering being saved by the winged spirit. He reaches a hand up to his face and hardly feels any pain when he touches his nose.

“Wow,” he marvels, stroking the taped gauze. He’s never really appreciated his extraordinary healing ability until now.

“The swelling has gone down a lot,” Hiccup observes, scooting closer to the bed, awe shimmering in his verdant irises. “You should be completely fine in a few days.”

Jack doesn’t respond even though the news is good to hear. He can’t even begin to describe how weird he feels about sleeping for who knows how long in someone else’s home—in someone else’s _bed_. If he wasn’t so dazed when Hiccup offered to help him, he would’ve refused.

Hiccup reaches to grab a ceramic mug off the bedside table. “You were sweating a lot, so I figured you could use some water.” He offers the drink to him, and Jack eyes the cup warily. Hiccup’s hopeful expression falters, but then he picks up a paper bag. “I brought you some food, too. I don’t know what you like, but I have some _fyrstekake_ and _solskinnskringle_.”

“Where did you get that?” Jack demands, narrowing his eyes. Spirits don’t need to eat, but they can feel hungry if they spend too much energy. Jack never steals anything from anyone, opting to rummage through trash cans whenever his stomach complains. He isn’t going to accept any of Hiccup’s offers if they’re stolen.

“I traded it,” Hiccup answers casually, sticking his hand into the bag and pulling out a pastry. Jack regards the food with suspicion, and Hiccup sighs, clearly upset about being rejected. “I didn’t steal it, okay? I don’t steal things.”

Hesitantly, Jack takes the mug and dessert from him, reluctantly lifting the drink to his lips. Even though he’s uneasy about waking up in a stranger's house and eating his potentially stolen food, he has to admit that his stomach feels empty. Getting beat up really drained him.

Hiccup’s expression brightens when Jack takes a bite, and he curiously inquires, “So, how did you get in trouble with the fire elves?”

Jack raises a skeptical eyebrow. “... Fire elves?”

“Didn’t you see their pointy ears?” Hiccup lifts his hand and tugs lightly on one of Jack’s ears, smiling awkwardly. “Maybe you didn't notice because you look just like them.”

Jack, who is still growing accustomed to physical contact, wrinkles his nose at the touch. Hiccup’s attempt to ease the tension with humor falls short, but Jack recognizes that he’s just trying to be nice, so he chuckles a little. “Oh yeah, for sure.”

Thankfully, Hiccup drops his hand and sits back, awkwardness rolling off of him in waves. Jack eyes the pastry in his hand, wondering when he can leave. The air is stuffy in here, and he can't feel the wind. He takes a bite and tries to fill the awkward hole in the conversation, “Who’s Eldar?”

“He’s one of the oldest fire spirits. Way older than me. He’s in charge of making sure we don’t act up,” Hiccup explains, nibbling on the other pastry.

“How old are you?” Jack asks. Frost spreads across his shoulders and sleeves after he downs the rest of his water, and his mouth suddenly doesn’t feel so dry anymore. He really was thirsty after all.

“I’ve been around for a thousand years or so.” Hiccup seems unfazed by his age. “What about you?”

Jack tugs on the strings of his hoodie, answering somewhat shyly, “A little over three hundred.”

Hiccup’s eyes widen, and Jack guesses that three centuries pale in comparison to a millennium. “Have you ever even been in a fight before?”

Jack thinks back to when he became a Guardian, remembers how he felt like he was being gutted when his staff was snapped in half, and shrugs nonchalantly. “Not really.”

“Oh.” Hiccup scoots closer, dragging the legs of his stool against the cave floor. “Okay, well, since you probably don’t know, you need to take it easy for a while. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion. Does your head hurt?” He inspects him like an overly concerned parent, fingers twitching as if they’re tempted to brush against his bruises.

Jack rolls his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You were out for three days,” Hiccup points out, and Jack nearly drops the mug he’s holding.

“Three days?!” he exclaims, and Hiccup nods. Jack buries his face in his hands. He missed Halloween and an entire weekend with Jamie. The kid probably thinks he was ditched. The thought sends a burst of panic through him, and Jack swings his legs over the side of the bed. “I have to go.”

Hiccup looks dejected, and Jack can’t help but feel sorry for him. The poor guy clearly just wants someone to talk to.

“I mean, I really should go. I’m supposed to be somewhere else right now,” Jack explains, jumping off the bed and backing away from the crestfallen spirit. Jamie is his priority, and he can’t abandon him for someone he doesn’t even know. “Thanks for the help.”

Hiccup shakes his head, sporting a smile, disappointment etched into his freckled features. “You’re welcome. It was, uh, no trouble, really.”

A part of Jack tells him to stay, reassuring him that Jamie won’t give up on him because of a single missed holiday. A part of him recognizes that he’s exactly the same as Hiccup: alone, desperate, and willing to go to great lengths to gain attention.

Jack doesn’t listen to that voice inside of him. He waves quickly and scampers away, speeding down the tunnel. He knows that if he doesn’t put Jamie first, he’ll end up just like Hiccup someday.

Jack reaches the open air and takes off, trying and failing to forget his guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Reykr” means “smoke” in Norse.
> 
> “Bruni” means “fire” in Norse.
> 
> Fyrstekake is a Norwegian cardamom tart, and solskinnskringle is essentially a Norwegian danish.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is welcomed! If you see any grammar and/or spelling mistakes, out of character behavior, or plot holes, please respectfully come forth! 
> 
> Correct me if I'm wrong! If you have more extensive knowledge on any subject, please tell me if I make language and/or culture mistakes! I welcome the correction!
> 
> If anyone is interested becoming a beta reader, please comment below! I really need someone to help me out with grammar and other writing struggles!


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